


Support Group

by Shippingment



Category: Voltron: Defender of the Universe (1984), Voltron: Legendary Defender, Voltron: Lion Voltron
Genre: Anxiety, Anxiety Attacks, Anxiety Disorder, Bilingual Lance (Voltron), Bipolar Disorder, Bisexual Lance (Voltron), Bisexual Shiro (Voltron), Bottom Keith (Voltron), Cuban Lance (Voltron), Female Pidge | Katie Holt, Female Pronouns for Pidge | Katie Holt, Gay Keith (Voltron), Human Allura (Voltron), Human Coran (Voltron), Hunk & Lance (Voltron) Friendship, Hunk & Pidge | Katie Holt Friendship, Hunk (Voltron) is a Good Friend, Hunk (Voltron) is so Pure, Hurt Keith (Voltron), Hurt Lance (Voltron), Insecure Lance (Voltron), Japanese Shiro (Voltron), Keith & Pidge | Katie Holt Friendship, Keith (Voltron) Has Anxiety, Keith (Voltron) is Bad at Feelings, Keith (Voltron) is a Mess, Keith/Lance (Voltron) Angst, Korean Keith (Voltron), Lance & Pidge | Katie Holt Friendship, Lance (Voltron) Angst, Lance (Voltron) Has Anxiety, Lance (Voltron) is a Mess, M/M, Paranoia, Pidge | Katie Holt is Savage, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Protective Shiro (Voltron), Sassy Pidge | Katie Holt, Separation Anxiety, Shiro (Voltron) Has PTSD - Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, Socially Awkward Keith (Voltron), Space Dad Shiro (Voltron), Space Mom Allura (Voltron), Speech Disorders, Stuttering, Voltron, klance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-01
Updated: 2018-03-13
Packaged: 2019-02-09 06:46:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 16,388
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12882366
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shippingment/pseuds/Shippingment
Summary: dis·or·dernouna disruption of normal physical or mental functions; a disease or abnormal condition.Post-traumatic stress, social anxiety, paranoia, speech, and bipolar disorders- yes, they live within these kids; but no, it does not define them. Shiro, Katie, Hunk, Lance, and Keith don't know what life will throw in their direction, but hey, at least they have their support group.





	1. Chapter 1.

**Author's Note:**

> This is a combination of a ton of fics I read about disorders in the past. If you feel I have misunderstood or poorly illustrated a disorder, please let me know! However, disorders can be different for everyone. That being said, this book may be triggering at some point- so please read with caution. If you ever need to talk, here are my contacts,
> 
> Twitter- @Shippingment  
> Enjoy ; read with caution!

The school hours passed by with twiddling thumbs and tapping feet. Within ten minutes, Lance would be out of this class and directly into the next one. He had already memorized the route he had to travel, going out of the science lab, heading to his left, all whilst avoiding any eye contact while doing so. Then he’d dip left into his classroom, rushing to his seat in the back. So, of course his stomach flipped when the announcements called him to the office. His everyday routine was ruined and his mind was scattered. Why do they want me? Did I do something? How long will I be there? Should I bring my bag? Which way is the office from here? His anxiety raged as all these questions remained unanswered. He felt all eyes on him as he slowly raised from his seat in the back of the class, lifting his bag onto his shoulders, and zooming out the door. His pace towards the office quickened, causing his breathing and heart race to rise. However, from the outside, Lance didn’t show any signs of his anxiety and stiffness. He often hid his nervous shivers and blazing heartbeat under baggy jumpers and the loose clothes that were in currently instyle. This didn’t allow him to fit in, but it did draw less attention to himself; which is what he wanted. School for Lance was like a masquerade party where outfits were the masks. However, his little disguise didn’t last long, for when he had to speak, his disguise was removed and what was hidden before was now out in the open for everyone to see. 

The halls were like a ghost town, which freaked Lance out even more. If it weren’t for the colorful posters advertising clubs to join and dances to attend(which he voided), he would’ve been convinced that the school was completely abandoned. 

Finally, he came in contact with the office door. The door had stickers of various fruits taped onto it which would’ve been welcoming if it wasn’t for Lance’s current situation. He took a deep breath while pulling the handle. The office was vacant except for an elder office lady who worked behind the desk and bid him no thought. Lance looked towards the clock, watching as the time faded by in seconds. It relaxed him. Lance slid his hands in his pocket uncomfortably before clearing his throat which finally earned her attention.

“Sorry, can I help you?” She was less proper and polite after seeing it was only a student and not an adult or supervisor.

Lance hadn’t planned on what he was going to say, he expected for cops or the principal to be here, handcuffing him or holding a gun to his head- after all, he has never been sent to the office before. He went to open his mouth, hoping for something understandable to come out under his nerves, but was interrupted by a woman Lance hadn’t see in the corner behind him. He turned around instantly.

“Lance McClain?” She asked, smiling at the boy who was shaking in his pants. He slowly nodded in response. She signaled for him to come closer- not in a creepy way, but very welcoming. This mellowed his anxiety as he obeyed and followed. “Hello, Lance. I’m Ms. Altea and if you’re comfortable with it, would you mind following me?”

He examined her for a second. Her hair was tied up in a tight bun and she was wearing the teachers uniform, so it was obvious that she was some type of facility member. However, her smile outshined the stern tone of her outfit.

“A-A-A-m I in trouble?” Lance squeaked out, impatient to figure out why he is here.

Ms. Altea laughed, “No!” she beamed, “Of course not, no. I just have something I’d like to speak with you about.” And with that, she gained his trust as he followed her into a room.

He fiddled with his fingertips as he entered. Suddenly, his anxiety was booming as he saw a group sitting at the table, all eyes on him. Ms. Altea put her hand on his back, gently pushing him into the room and closing the door behind them. “Here, there’s a seat right next to Keith,” she said, pointing to a boy with black fringe covering his eyes. Lance felt uncomfortable with taking his bag off, as if it was his safety shield, so he kept it on and sat uneasily in the chair.

Lance glanced around the table after all eyes were off of him. He noticed that everyone looked as nervous as he, fiddling with their fingers, staring off into space with wide eyes, or shaking their leg to ease themselves. He didn’t really know anyone in the room which was no surprise- he didn’t really know anyone in the high school in general. The only information that was available to him about these students were their uniforms. Each grade level wore different uniforms, making it easy to distinguish who belonged to which class. Freshmen wore polos, sophomores wore button ups, juniors wore button ups with ties, and seniors wore blazers. All of the clothing was white with accents of green somewhere. Three out of the four students wore the same Sophomore uniform as he did; while one wore a Senior blazer. Still looking around, Lance realizes he only recognizes two out of the four students in the room.One being the girl sitting in front of him who had scar marks covering her body. He’s never had a class nor a conversation with her and the only reason he really notices her is because she sticks out like a sore thumb. The other person he identified was the heavy boy to his left. Lance noticed him on the first day of school when they were assigned to sit next to each other during English class, but he never showed up beyond the first day. Lance just assumed he changed schools.

The room was dead silent. Nobody wanted to make a noise. So they held their breaths and hoped for the quiet to end soon. It was like an unannounced competition to see who could stay silent the longest. And even though nobody said a word, Ms. Altea still stood in the corner, smiling gleefully at them.

Lance looked around the classroom, trying to remain silent while doing so. He was in search for a clock but frowned when he did not see one. Instead, he resorted to his wristwatch that he wore every single minute of every single day. He received it last Christmas from his dad who was lucky enough to come home for the holidays. It was for emergency times when he needed a clock but there were none available, such as when he was outside or in the halls in between classes.

Suddenly, the door opened, slamming into the wall and creating a big bang that caused everyone to jump. “Oo! Sorry!” a man entered with a singsong tone to his voice. He walked in with a handful of unorganized papers that made Lance flustered. The man tossed them onto the already cluttered desk to his right, clapped his hands together, and stared at the group who already had their eyes on him.

“Hello everyone!” he said too enthusiastically. Lance remained silent, looking at this man who he’s never seen before with utter confusion. He chuckled, twirling his mustache anxiously, “Right.” He smiled, clapping once more, “You’re probably curious as to why I’ve gathered y’all here today. Well,” He pointed to the Ms. Altea, who smiled and waved, “We are both Garrison High’s Guidance Counselors. I have been working here for twenty-four years, but this is Ms. Altea’s first year so please treat her kindly.” The group became less confused with the information that they were only councilors. All of the kids have talked to private guidance counselors before, but never in a big group like this. “Now, Ms. Altea and I,” he pointed to himself, “Mr. Coran, were talking and we decided to put together this little group of individuals. Everything in this room is confidential,” Lance huffed, as if I have anyone to tell in the first place, he thought. “Y’all live your life differently from everyone else and that’s okay.” He hesitated, unsure of what to say, “Now, why don’t we start with introductions, shall we? Well, I’ve already introduced myself,” He chuckled, “Mr. Coran, at your service!” he leaned forward, taking a tiny bow before directing his hand to the person to his right. “Why don’t you go, Shiro? Now, be kind to one another.”

A boy who looked the most confident in the group smiled and nodded. Lance already felt out of place- this guy looked cool. He looked as if he was part of the soccer club at school or maybe even the football team. He oozed confidence which created tension for Lance. Perhaps it was his senior blazer or the silver stripe through his hair, but whatever it was made the entire group sink. “Hello everyone,” he grinned without a nerve in his body, “my name is Shiro and I’m actually co-co president of this group, after Ms. Altea,” he gave her a cheeky nod, “I’m a senior and I actually came up with the idea for this group. I see kids like you wandering the halls and I wanted you all to feel like you have a safe space to just talk about how you’re feeling and how life is treating you. I’ve been watching you all in the halls and I’ve seen you at lunch and I just want you all to make it out of high school successfully, alright?” he smiled, showing general compassion. Each kid at the table knew exactly what he was talking about; how they darted from class to class avoiding, any social interaction, and how they sat at lunch alone with their heads buried in music or books. “I want you all to feel less alone and to have someone you can talk to. We all have everyday struggles. So, let’s be here for eachother, okay?” He doesn’t know what we’re going through, Lance thought, he’s cool. “Now I’m going to pass this onto Katie Holt.” He smiled and the girl beside him gave one in return.

Katie Holt, as mentioned before, was covered in many scars. This was due to her dermatographic urticaria that was so intense that the writings on her skin never faded. This resulted in several welts, itchy, and swelling; alongside social anxiety due to her mischievous classmates. Her eyes paced back and forth across the table, avoiding any contact. She played with her fingertips and avoided scratching her nails upon her skin. “Hi,” she spoke softly, “I’m Katie Holt and I’m a sophomore and I, uh, should be in physics right about now.” She let out a soft chuckle, turning to Shiro who had let out a slight sigh of relief.

Mr. Coran buzzed in, “Good, good! Now is there anything you enjoy doing? Like hobbies?”

She thought for a moment, then looking back to Mr. Coran with excitement, “I like computers. And technology. And gaming. Graphic designing is pretty cool too!” Curiosity wondered in Lance's head, interested in what types of games she likes, but he swept those thoughts away. It’s not that he wasn’t interested in being her friend, he certainly was, it was only that he knew how difficult friendship is for someone like him.

Mr. Coran, satisfied with her answer, nodded with delight, then turned the tables to the next person. It happened to be the boy Lance was meant to be in class with. His actions were quite the opposite from Katie’s; he looked at everyone closely and carefully, whilst checking behind him every once in awhile just to make sure nothing had appeared. His posture was very stiff and he had his arms crossed; untrusting of the people around him. “Hi,” he said with a straight face, “I’m Hunk. I’m a sophomore and I like to cook.”

“What’s your favorite thing to cook?” Ms. Altea chimed in, earning a nod of approval from Mr. Coran.

Hunk shrugged, “a lot of things I guess.” He wasn’t really opened to sharing.

Lance’s heart started beating rapidly, he knew he was the next person to speak. Speaking in casual conversations with his family came easily for him, but the minute he is put in an uncomfortable environment, he goes off the rails.

“And what about you, Lance?” The dreaded question begun. He was prepared for the awkward laughter from the peanut gallery or for people to ask him to repeat himself because they truly didn’t understand what he was saying; he’s heard it all before.

Lance twisted the watch around his wrist for ease, “Hello, m-my name is L-Lance. I’m also a s-s-s-sophomore and I l-l-like to play video games.”

“Oh! Nice! What’s your favorite game?” Mr. Coran smiled, leaning closer to Lance with interest.

Lance hesitated, “Uhh, probably M-M-Mario Kart.” Lance thought about how he and his family would have game nights, battling each other through the twists and curves of Rainbow Road. Lance shortly became a pro at it but allowed his little siblings to win every once in awhile to lift their spirits. This memory created a curve of delight to his lips, but once coming in touch with his surroundings again, he exchanged it with a straight line.

“Ahh, a classic.” Mr. Coran said, patting the back of Lance’s chair, “What about you, Keith?”

Lance was exasperated. It’s been awhile since he’s gotten through a casual conversation with someone other than his family. It’s also been awhile since he’s had a conversation when someone didn’t laugh or ask him to repeat himself. It felt different; a nice different.

The boy turned his attention to the kid next to him. His eyes were shaded behind his thick black hair. He was practically swimming in his sophomore button up. Lance came to the conclusion that if you looked up ‘emo’ in the dictionary, he would appear.

“I’m Keith.” He folded his arms, leaning back in his chair, obviously not wanting to speak.

“And?” Mr. Coran chuckled, not putting up with his attitude, “Anything else you want to say?”

“I’m a sophomore.”

Mr. Coran claps, “Okay! Anyways,” he obviously knew the boy and was familiar with his attitude. “this group, as I said before, is a safe zone. Now, how about we go around and discuss a little about how we each are… different…?”

They knew what he wanted them to talk about right away. It was obvious. Everyone in the room leaked with disorders and issues- well besides Shiro, Lance thought. Nobody hated Mr. Coran for mentioning the topic that way, they knew it could’ve been worse.

Shiro cleared his throat to start, “I have PTSD. If you don’t know what that is, it’s Post Traumatic Stress Disorder.” Lance gulped a spoonful of regret.

“Yes,” the room goes quiet for a second, “and how does this affect you in your everyday life?” Ms. Altea asked.

Shiro sighed, “it’s quite difficult. You have to be very aware at all times of everything around you and what might trigger an attack and sometimes there may not even be a trigger for me. I just get lost in my memories. It’s especially hard remembering the times when I wasn’t like this,” he went quiet for a moment, “sometimes I just want to turn back the clock and breathe in those moment a little longer.”

Lance felt terrible. Guilt dropped down to his stomach and his face went red. He was ashamed of himself for even thinking Shiro didn’t have his own struggles. He suddenly knew how it felt to be the peanut gallery rather than the one laughed at.

The room went silent once again and Katie figured it was her turn, “I have a rare disease called dermatographic urticaria which is when you write on your skin and it gets all puffy then fades eventually, but mine doesn’t fade away. The doctors are still trying out exactly what it is but we agreed to call it dermatographic urticaria for now. I’ve been in and out of the hospital every year… but I haven’t gone to the hospital in three months- which is a long time for me. My mom and I celebrate every week that goes by without a checkup… I guess it affects me in my everyday life because I have to be careful and aware, just like Shiro. Also, it caused me to have severe social anxiety, but I’ve come to the conclusion that no matter how hard I try, I’ll never look like everyone else, so now I just have to work on building my confidence...and yeah.” 

Lance noticed how she rambled on comfortably. She seems like the type of person who remains silent until they’re spoken to and when they’re finally spoken to, they let everything out. Lance smiled, he liked that aspect of her. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Mr. Coran smiling at her.

“Alright, Hunk?”

The boy hesitated, “I have Paranoid Personality Disorder. I guess this makes me untrusting and well, cautious?” He questioned his words, as if not knowing how to explain it. Mr. Coran nodded in agreement.  
Hunk stayed quiet, not willing to say anymore and nobody was going to force him.

Lance guessed it was his turn. He was still nervous but not as much as before, he felt more comfortable after knowing what the other teens had to deal with. 

He took a deep breath, trying to remember all of the tips his speech teacher gave him for public speaking, “I-I-I have a-a stuttering disorder.” he managed out, pinching himself at each repeated syllable, “It’s a s-speech disorder and it c-causes me to have trouble sp-sp-speaking.”

“And how does this affect you, Lance?”

“I don’t l-like talking. I’m not v-v-v-very good at it.” He chuckled but pinched his skin harder for that last one. He felt bad for the other teens in the room who struggled to understand him. However, when he looked up, they didn’t show any sign of misunderstanding, they were interested.

Lance didn’t know what else to say, so he just stayed quiet, flashing a smile to the councillors and the other teens before they went onto the next boy.

Before Mr. Coran could say anything, Keith sprung up from his chair, “I’m going to the bathroom.” He yelled behind him while walking towards the door.

“Keith, at least tell them a little about yourself before you go-” but before Mr. Coran could get a sentence out of Keith, the door was closed behind him.

Ms. Altea chimed in, “I’ll go get him.” She said, walking out the door to follow him.

Mr. Coran bid her a quick ‘thank you’, before continuing the conversation, “That’s Keith. I know I’m really not in the position to tell you this but, I gave him a warning. Keith suffers with bipolar disorder. His mood changes often, hence why he just ran out the room like that. Under all that, I can assure you he’s a nice kid. You guys seem understanding and although he does things like," he points to the door, "this, I really hope you accept him as part of this group.” He sighs while the bell goes off and signals them to switch classes. “Alright, kids. You may go to your next class now, but don’t stress the next time you get called down; this will be an annual thing.”

Lance and the other teens stood up from their seats, tossing their bag straps over their shoulders, and hurried out the door.

But whilst walking out, they noticed Keith at the end of the long corridor in front of them with tear stains running from his eyes while Ms. Altea tried her best to comfort him. Everyone glanced once, coming to a conclusion that it was best to mind their own business, and walking to the exit. But Lance was different. He stood still, looking at Keith from a distance with sorrow in his eyes. The floor began to fade to black, blocking out any surroundings between Keith and Lance. Two spotlights landed on both boys. It was only them. Keith lay, head resting on his knees in a shape that was familiar to Lance. The crying boy was unable to see the boy on the other side of the corridor. Lance's shaky hand reached out to Keith, desperate to help but Keith was completely unaware. Lance wanted to run to him, but his body refused. So he stood there, arm stretched out, desperate for the other boy to grab it. Eventually, Lance snapped back into his surroundings, where Keith sat just as before in the white foyer with Ms. Altea at his side. Lance stood still with his hand to his side, hearing the ticks of the clock around his wrist. He turned around, exiting the office. Besides, he had a schedule to follow.


	2. Chapter 2.

“Mindfulness give you time.” -Helepola Gunaratana

A week later, the kids got called to the office once again. The previous walk of anxiety had been left in the past as they came to the realization that this was going to be a constant thing. The kids shuffled to the same seats as before to avoid irregularity. Once seated, they were all handed a sheet of paper with this quote written on it.

During the days in between their first meeting till now, Lance kept the group in his head. His perspective had changed. As cliche as he refuses to admit; hearing everyone else's struggles did make him feel less alone. Alongside the group, the image of Keith refused to remove himself from Lance's mind. Lance's heart felt heavy thinking of Keith with back against a wall, sobbing in a way that was familiar to Lance. A clap interrupts his thoughts.

“Alright! Today we are going to be discussing mindfulness. Now, can anyone tell me what mindfulness is exactly?”

The room went blankly silent and everyone shifted uncomfortably in their seats. Mr. Coran would not let this go without an answer and frankly, nobody had one.

Unexpectedly, Keith’s head shot up and he raised his hand high.

Mr. Coran had a glare of hope in his eyes, “Yes, Keith!”

All eyes went to Keith, who, although he had his hand up, his head was looking down at his lap. Suddenly, everyone knew exactly what he was doing and couldn’t help but laugh. A bright light gleamed from Keith’s crotch as he squinted his eyes and read aloud, “Mindfulness, noun, the quality or state of being conscious or aware of something.”

Mr. Coran sighed, “Yes. Yes, that is it. And I will be taking that.” He ripped the phone quickly from Keith’s hand. The teens chuckled to amongst each other. Lance looked over to Hunk, who was less stiff than last week, laughing along with the group. 

Looking to his left, Lance felt unfamiliar with Keith. He was different than the boy he saw in the corridor only a week ago. The other kids found it very difficult to form an opinion on Keith too. He was unlike anyone they’ve ever met. In truth, it’s like meeting a whole new person every time he talked. However, this did not make Keith a complete turn off to them; they tried their best to be understanding and to trust what Mr. Coran said.

“Mindfulness is the state of being here, in the moment. We will be talking about that a lot in here. Kids like you have a habit of staying in your head and thinking too much about the past and future. You’re here in this moment, right now. Okay, if you don’t mind, we would like to have a little meditation time,” he announced, turning off the lights, “everyone close your eyes and follow the instruction of Ms. Altea.”

The kids obeyed, but peaked their eyes every so often to check if the other kids eyes were closed. Eventually, they all came to an understanding that they should all just keep their eyes closed. They take a deep breath before starting the meditation.

“Begin by bringing your attention into your body. You can notice your body seated wherever you’re seated, feeling the weight of your body on the chair, on the floor.” Lance noticed his body and how it started to feel lightweight and peaceful.

“Take a few deep breaths,” He followed, “And as you take a deep breath, bring in more oxygen enlivening the body. And as you exhale, have a sense of relaxing more deeply.” His body started to feel lighter and lighter, like he was flying.

“You can notice your feet on the floor, notice the sensations of your feet touching the floor. The weight and pressure, vibration, heat.” Lance ignored this step and his mind replaced it with feeling his feet touch the clouds as he flew through the sky. He felt the wind in his hair and the weight of imaginary wings on his back as he flutters high and away from the world below. He fluttered so high that he reached the sun, holding his hand out and collecting dust from the giant star.

“You can notice your legs against the chair, pressure, pulsing, heaviness, lightness.” Suddenly, Lance is thrown out of his paradise. A big bang was heard through the room. He opened his eyes quickly and looked toward the noise noticing that it came in the direction of the door. Lance looked around to the other boys who were also curious, and saw the empty seat next to him. Lance sighed, even more confused about Keith than ever before.

“Hush,” Ms. Allura persisted, “Close your eyes and let's continue. Notice your back against the chair…” but even while she continued the exercise, Keith lingered in Lance’s mind.

To Lance, everyone else in the group was so easy to reach and understand in some way. Shiro is traumatized by his past, Katie has serious injuries and anxiety, Hunk is beyond fearful, but Keith…? Lance cannot contemplate an answer. He’s strange. He’s different. He’s cold. He’s hard to reach. He’s bipolar. Lance just doesn’t know how to handle that.

He wanted to help. He wanted to help everyone in the group; including himself- but Keith seemed nearly impossible.

Lance is returned to his happy place, drifting above the sun before flying down and landing. He sat, looking out into the distance. The sky faded dark as the sun started to circulate downward to light the other side of the world. Out of the corner of his eye and through the darkness he spots the moon, turning away from him. Laying upon it was a boy with wings that matched his dark wings. Lance identified him instantly. Keith faced opposite to Lance, not seeing him at all. The boy on the sun tried to call out to him, but space ate the sound.

“Be aware of your whole body as best you can. Take a breath. And then when you’re ready, you can open your eyes.” The meditation was over.

Soon enough, the bell rings and everyone scattered out of the room like ants. Lance peaked into the hallway where he saw Keith crying previously, but frowned when he was nowhere to be seen. Lance caught himself in confusion. It was strange for him to do this. He doesn’t really know Keith and he doesn’t break his schedule for anything or anyone, but something told him he needed to at least check. Lance bit his lip while looking into the empty corridor once again, glancing down at his watch as the seconds pass by, and giving up, turning around and heading directly to his last class. He couldn’t continue to break his routine.

After his final class, Lance rushed to his bus so he won’t have to share a seat with any other kids. He tried to distract his mind with his headphones on full blast but somehow his mind continued to bring him back to Keith.


	3. Chapter 3.

“Mindfulness give you time.” -Helepola Gunaratana

After Keith stormed out from the first meeting, he had a long discussion with Mr. Coran and they came to the conclusion that Keith should stay in the group. Mr. Coran explained how these kids were trying to heal just like him, which heightened Keith's sensitivity and made him cry even more.

So, the following week, he walked into their second meeting with a change of heart. He tried to keep positive although he did find the entire experience quite boring. He was handed a flip of paper with some type of metaphorical quote on it that he didn’t really care for. Keith looked around, investing each group member closely. He had never met anyone in the school before unless they were called into Mr. Coran's office and even then, Keith would hear their little problems, watch them leave, and never see them again until their next appointment where they complained about something else. These “problems” were so little; for example, last weak he saw this pretty girl walk in with tear-filled eyes, going on about how her friends were no longer speaking to her because she got a boyfriend. Keith couldn't help but bombard this meeting with eye rolls and huffs of stupidity. Keith wanted to burst up and protest that she had no idea what a real struggle was, but he held back. However, he watched as Mr. Coran continued to listen to her and try to help her out. He was kind. Keith suddenly heard a clap that interrupted his thoughts.

“Alright! Today we are going to be discussing mindfulness. Now, can anyone tell me what mindfulness is exactly?”

The room was blankly silent and everyone shifted uncomfortably in their seats. Keith knew Mr. Coran wouldn't let a question go unanswered, so he stood there, looking at the group, awaiting a response that Keith knew wouldn't come. So instead, Keith pulled out his phone, seeing that the discussion was going nowhere. Suddenly, he got a witty idea.

The boy shot his hand up with a giant grin on his face, seeing the glare of hope Mr. Coran’s eyes, “Yes, Keith!”

Keith held his phone on his lap and read aloud,“Mindfulness, noun, the quality or state of being conscious or aware of something.” He knew this would get on Mr. Coran’s nerves, which is exactly what he wanted. Besides, the other boys were laughing. Laughter equals the friendship Mr. Coran wanted to happen, right?

Mr. Coran sighed, “Yes. Yes, that is it. And I will be taking that.” He ripped the phone quickly from Keith’s hand. This made him sour as he folded his arms to his chest in frustration.

Keith and Mr. Coran have a tight bond. They’ve known each other since the first day of Freshman year when Keith came into his office and refused to leave. Mr. Coran tried to get the boy out of his office but Keith denied, playing with the fidget cube he left on his table instead of moving. Days after that, Keith continuously came in and refused to leave. This resulted in him ditching several classes. But no matter what Mr. Coran tried, Keith would not leave his office. Eventually, the councilor confronted the principal and told them the situation. Keith fought for his right to stay in the guidance office, using his bipolar disorder as an excuse. In defeat, the principal granted him permission as long as he gets his schoolwork done. After this agreement was made, Keith still refused to go to any classes because he demanded that he already knew everything the professor was teaching. Mr. Coran printed a final test that reviewed all the materials Keith needed to pass sophomore year, which he passed with flying colors. Coming to an agreement with all his teachers, Keith was allowed to stay in Mr. Coran’s office as long as he completed the worksheets and tests delivered to the counselors office. Therefore, Keith’s school hours turned into a seven hour therapy session. They’ve gotten to know each other quite well over the past year.

“Mindfulness is the state of being here, in the moment. We will be talking about that a lot in here. Kids like you have a habit of staying in your head and thinking too much about the past and future. You’re here in this moment, right now. Now, if you don’t mind, we will be doing some meditation,” he announced, turning off the lights, “everyone close your eyes and follow the instruction of Ms. Altea.”

The kids obeyed, but peaked their eyes opened every so often to check if everyone else’s eyes were closed. All the teens took a deep breath before the meditation started.

Keith huffed, this isn’t going to help me whatsoever, he thought, but listened anyways. He was the last to close his eyes.

“Begin by bringing your attention into your body. You can notice your body seated wherever you’re seated, feeling the weight of your body on the chair, on the floor,” This made Keith lightweight, “Take a few deep breaths. And as you take a deep breath, bring in more oxygen enlivening the body. And as you exhale, have a sense of relaxing more deeply.” As he did so, he felt the oxygen fill his heavy body that is often heated from rage. As he breathed out, he imaged smoke flowing from out of his nostrils.

“You can notice your feet on the floor, notice the sensations of your feet touching the floor. The weight and pressure, vibration, heat.” He tried so hard to focus on his feet, but the fire within his lungs refused to burn out. It grew and grew and grew until the flames were flowing out from his nostrils and onto his lap. From his lap, the fire spread to the floor and to the surrounding members of the support group. It spread so high that the fire alarms went off and he could no longer hear the meditation exercise anymore. He squeezed his eyes tight, trying everything possible to remain calm and mindful- but he couldn’t.

“You can notice your legs against the chair, pressure, pulsing, heaviness, lightness.” Keith opened his eyes and looked fearfully towards Mr. Coran who knew exactly what Keith needed. The older man nodded and Keith pushed out of his chair and ran into the hallway.

Keith desperately gasped for air as soon as he entered the hallway. He tried to be as quiet as possible. He was embarrassed. He felts like the weakest link of the Support Group, hell, he couldn’t even get through a simple meditation.

He dragged himself into Mr. Coran’s office. The fire refused to leave him; stalking behind him and burning the ground beneath with each step. He closed the door behind him, locking it with a key Mr. Coran left in his top right cabinet.

Keith collapsed onto his back on the office couch. He grabbed the stuffed animal hippo that Mr. Coran kept in his office and cuddled it to his chest. The boy allowed tears to flow from the corners of his eyes, down his temples, and following to his ears; they weren't enough to put of his fire. 

He stayed like that for a while, staring directly at the ceiling and letting his tears roll out. He watched as his fiery world converted to black and white again. Closing his eyes, he dreamed of the day the vibrant, beautiful colors of the world would return.


	4. Chapter 4.

The following week was very uncomfortable in the Support Group. Before, they all felt a sense of understanding for one another and a connection between their struggles- but after Keith's continuous storming out, nobody knew what would happen in today’s meeting. The idea of trust that Mr. Coran attempted to lay out was completely thrown away. Everyone wanted to help Keith, but they feared getting in conversation with him, for they wouldn't know which Keith they were talking to. They felt as if he didn’t care; but with the kindness of their hearts, they still tried to care for him.

This week's meeting consisted of one empty chair. When Mr. Coran walked in at his usual time, he did not bid them a ‘hello’ or ‘good day’. Instead, he closed the door slowly behind him, pulled out his key, and locked it completely. This made everyone spine stiffen with discomfort. All eyes turned to Keith who stared at the door with complete rage.

Mr. Coran walked to the front of the room, looking at the boys with tired eyes, “Alright, here’s what's going to happen,” he turned directly towards Keith, “Nobody will be leaving-”

“You can’t just lock us in here!” Keith protested, standing up from his chair to be argumentative but on his way up, his arm was out of his control and was on the edge of whacking Lance. Lance pulled away before it could happen but Keith still took note of it.

Keith looked down at Lance, who stared back at him with great fear. Keith then searched around the room at the other teens who all shared the same expression as Lance. He felt like a monster. He felt selfish. Realization came into his head- the other teens feared him and it was all his fault- no, it was all his disorder’s fault. The boy’s eyes start to tear up and his expression softened, looking to Mr. Coran who gave him a look of understanding. He sat down in his seat with the weight of withdrawal, lost hope, and regret.

The room remained silent and Mr. Coran nor Ms. Allura were trying to stop it. The silence was uncomfortable and the teens wished Keith had argued with Mr. Coran instead, it would’ve been better than the quiet. Their disorders may be different but there's one thing they all hated- the quiet.  
To Shiro, silence was opened to anything happening. In video games, silence always appears before a jump scare or a murder.  
To Hunk, silence was suspicious. It would eat him alive of who would talk next, why nobody was talking in the first place, or what the next topic of conversation would be.  
To Lance, silence was a mistake. Silence reminds him of all the times someone could not understand him and frankly didn't care to, so they left the conversation in the air.  
To Keith, silence was a reminder. Silence reminded him of how lonely his disorder has caused him to be.

Lance looked to his watch for comfort, watching the tiny arms on the clock move with every second. He continued to tell himself that this moment will be over soon. Suddenly, he felt eyes on him. He peeks to his left with curiosity, where Keith was looking directly at him. This was the first time Lance has ever seen Keith's eyes. They were a dark brown that brought out the true darkness of his black hair, but before he could inspect his face more, he was interrupted.

"I'm sorry." Keith muttered, looking directly at Lance.

"W-what?" Lance questioned, confused as to why Keith was apologizing.

"I'm sorry I almost hit you." Keith repeated, looking directly at Lance for acceptance.

"Oh," Lance understood, "I-I-it's okay! I'm f-f-f-fine." Lance flashed a bright smile. Keith's eyes softened from this as he turned his head away from Lance.

In the moment, Lance understood Keith. He was trying.

“As some of you may have noticed, we have a missing member today.” The boys looked up to see Mr. Coran with a stern expression on his face; his forehead wrinkled and hands in his pocket, “Katie Holt’s hospital streak has been broken and she was admitted to the hospital last night, but she left me a little message.”

The boys didn't know how to react. They felt bad, but nobody was really close to Katie enough to actually feel anything beyond sympathy.

Mr. Coran looked at his computer screen and read aloud, “Hello Mr. Coran, I am emailing you to inform you and the rest of the support group that I am currently in the hospital (once again). I hope to be out as soon as possible and to be with you guys again. However, Thanksgiving is coming up and I have a bit of an invitation to the group. I wanted to have a Friendsgiving with them and maybe this would allow us to bond some more. I really like these kids and they seem really cool. Everyone is highly encouraged to come and if you don’t it would be a bit obvious because there are only five of us. Also, sorry Mr. Coran and Ms. Allura, no adults! Katie signing off.” Below the email listed Katie’s phone number for them to text.

The boy’s minds wandered. They would never consider this group of people their ‘friends’. They felt as if they hardly knew each other and now they’re going to hang out after school? Wasn’t this group just therapy? The only thing they really had in common were their matching school uniforms. Of course, most of the boys, with the kindness of their hearts, were opened to the idea and wanted friends desperately but were not open to admitting it unless someone else did. Keith didn’t know what to think. He’s never really had friends in high school other than Mr. Coran who he’d like to consider a friend. He began to get flashbacks from his middle school days when his bipolar disorder wasn’t as severe and he had friends. In that instant, he was reminded of the soft smile of forgiveness on Lance's face from only moments ago. He tried to push it aside but it shined through his face into a tiny grin. His heart felt warm.

One tiny fire extinguisher, he thought, one tiny extinguisher doesn’t do a lot for a huge fire… but it certainly does help.

“I’ll make a group chat,” Keith spoke up, “it’s only polite if we all go. Now, I’m going to need your phone numbers.” He looked at the boys and then up to Mr. Coran whose once stern expression was replaced with pride.


	5. Chapter 5.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi , i don't speak spanish so please pardon my horrible knowledge of culture thanks :))

KEITH: Alright. Here’s the chat.  
SHIRO: Hey Katie, how’re you feeling?  
KATIE: Oh! Hey guys! I’m fine! I’ll explain what happened later but since you all texted I’m guessing you’re all interested in my free food offer ;)  
KEITH: Totally.  
HUNK: When is it?  
KATIE: Any day works but I think I’m gonna be out of the hospital tomorrow night so maybe Friday night?  
SHIRO: I’ll need to check my schedule but it’s probably a yes.  
KATIE: Do you really have plans Shiro or are you just trying to sound cool?  
SHIRO: Wow, you sure are more confident on your phone than irl.  
KATIE: It’s easier this way :))  
LANCE: yeah, i agree. i don’t have to stutter over text!  
SHIRO: Omg  
KATIE: Oh no I’m so sorry  
KEITH: Friday works for me.  
HUNK: Me too!  
LANCE: me three!  
KATIE: Now we just need to see if Shiro’s busy schedule agrees lmao  
SHIRO: Oh, shush, I’ll beat you to the next level of the hospital, Katie.  
KATIE: Fite me.

Lance turned his phone off. It had truly never been that active; it was like starting up an old car that has never been used, but it’s just happy to be moving. Lance never realized how close Katie and Shiro were to make jokes like that. It fueled a hope for this new friendship to occur like he has seen in movies, but he tried to push it aside.

He ripped out his headphones and heads down the stairs of his home. His family lived in a little yellow duplex in Florida, which could be very troublesome at times. They’re a Spanish family of five, so things do get loud every once in awhile. However, despite the bickering, they’re very close.

Lance walked through the living room to get to the kitchen where his mom, with her back to him, worked on some type of recipe in her red kitchen-aid mixer that she cherished with her whole heart.  
“Mommm!” He cooed, coming to her side and resting his arm on her shoulder.

She jumped in fright, “Dios mío, me asustaste!” she yelled out, waving her spatula in his direction. He yelped and squealed, trying his best to avoid getting hit with whatever sticky substance was on her spatula. Eventually, she forfeit, putting the utensil back into the mixing bowl with a sour look on her face, “Well,” she smiled, “You were going to ask me something?”  
“A-ah, yes. I was w-wondering-” He gets cut off by the twins running into the kitchen, grabbing onto his ankles.

“Walk with us!” Tibby whined out while Tacito nodded in agreement.

Lance says to his mom in defeat, “I have a l-li-little adventure to g-go on.” and with that, they were off to explore the living room floor.

The twins were four years old and a handful. Tibby’s the oldest by a minute and will not let Tacito hear the last of it. Tibby’s very bossy and will fight until she gets her way, which she usually does. Outside of preschool, she takes ballet classes and she’s actually very good; her mom likes to take the credit for it. Just like most little girls, she dreams of one day becoming a princess. Lance likes to believe that if you looked up the stereotypical girl in the dictionary, Tibby would pop up.

However, Tacito is a little different. Tacito is autistic but even so, Lance loved him all the same as Tibby. Lance likes to think that everything he does is just a little highlight of his own personality and not autism. He doesn’t like giving Tacito that label; he likes to think of Tacito of his own person. Tacito likes animals. He dreams of studying them someday and Lance dreams of that too.

Lance looped around the living room a few times until the twins lost interest and let go to watch the television instead. The boy returned to his mom in the kitchen who is now putting the previous mentioned mixture into the oven.

He sat down at one of the kitchen island stools, exhausted by the laps he just had to walk with two very heavy ankle weights on.

“Tired, love?”

Instead of responding, Lance just closed his eyes, nodding slowly whilst resting his head into his palms. His mom walked to his side, running a hand through his hair gently.  
She smiled, “Try to stay up for a little longer, dinner is almost finished, acuerdo?”

“Acuerdo.” Lance mumbled into his palm before remembering he needed to ask permission for the Friendsgiving, “Oh!”

But before he could say anything, his dad walked into the house, returning from work.

Lance doesn’t see much of himself in his father. His father is very brave, tough and masculine. He’s tall and buff. Lance sees himself more on his mom’s side, having her feminine hips and slim figure. Lance finds it very difficult to be from the same genes as his dad, but also takes it as compliment. He works internationally so he’s usually not home but when he is, he tries his best to care for them and show them love.

“Hey, kiddo, what’s wrong?” He walked in, joining Gabriella in brushing through Lance’s hair.

Gabriella smiled towards her husband, “Cansado.” she replied simply.

“Ah,” he chuckled, sitting on the stool beside Lance, “ser feliz y sonreír, sé feliz y sonríe” Lance turned to his dad and flashed a very fake, no teeth smile, “Ah! Like that, but happier!” Lance does that widest smile he possible could, earning a chuckle from his father. Mateo got up from his chair, pat his son on the back and joined his wife near the oven. They started chatting in Spanish which Lance didn’t really care to listen to; he knew it was probably all lovey-dovey talk.

The twins then run in, one behind the other, in a stampede, demanding food. Gabriella hushed them while Mateo picked up Tacito and Tibby came running to Lance.

“Up!” she demanded and Lance obeyed, placing her on his lap. The kitchen was now quiet as they waited for dinner to finish. Now was Lance’s chance.

“Mom, d-dad?” He stuttered.

“Yeah, Nene?” his mom teased.

Lance blushed, “Pl-please don’t call m-m-me that!”

“Okay, okay, what is it?”

“So I told you a-about that s-s-support group I’m in, y-yeah?” He asked and they all nodded in agreement, even little Tacito who thinks nodding is funny and repeatedly did it after everyone had stopped. “Well, we d-d-decided to have a f-f-friendsgiving cele-cele-cele-” Lance tried hard to get the last word out but his family understood that it's hard for him. 

“Friendsgiving?” Gabriella smiled, Lance didn’t like that she completed his sentence- he never liked when anyone did, but he let it slide, “That’s an adorable idea.” Lance beamed back in agreement.

“Lance has no friends!” Tibby yelled out and Mateo cursed her out.

“When is it, Lance?” Gabriella asked, taking the meatballs out of the oven.

“Friday.”

All the attention was hardly on the conversation anymore. When Gabriella took the food out, it’s smell and appearance took over their minds. Mateo reached to grab a little bite but his hand got smacked away, “basta”.  
She started to make each plate of meatballs and spaghetti, strategically placing each meatball into the spaghetti and taking her time, so much so that it was drying the hungry family's patience. Nobody was allowed to eat before everyone else had a plate but when the final plate was made, they dug in as quickly as possible.

Once finished with their plates and giving compliments to the chef, Lance demanded they play a game of Mario Kart and the family raced to the console.  
Lance ultimately won, per usual.

After a few games, Lance agreed to put the twins to bed.

"Lance read to us!!" Tibby begged, but Lance knew if he did they wouldn’t be unable to understand the story through his stuttering, so he shook his head kindly and kissed them both, tucking them in once more and left them to rest.

As soon as he exits the room, he's greeted with his mom, standing in the small hall and grinning at him, "Yes?"

"So, who are these new friends you have?" She grinned walking up to him.

"Th-they're from my su-s-s-su-support group." Lance started walking to his room and Gabriella followed.

"What're they like?" she asked, curiously.

Lance sighed, "I-I don't know," he goes into his room, sitting on his bed as Gabriella stood at his doorway with her arms crossed.

"Are they nice?"

"Of course mom," he hesitated, "w-w-well except one of t-them." He chuckles sarcastically.

She was interested. "Who?"

Lance felt bad. Usually when he tells his mom about someone he dislikes, she takes note of it. Lance didn't want to leave a bad impression on someone who he hardly knew or understood. "I don't w-w-want to judge him y-yet. He’s unique."

"You have a kind heart, Lance. I'm proud of you."

Lance smiled in response. Once she left, he put his headphones in before drifting off to sleep.


	6. Chapter 6.

Keith sank into his bath, feeling the boiling water pruning at his skin. He kept his head above, fighting the urge to just dunk it in and stay there.

His brain doesn’t even remember getting into the bath and although he’s here, mentally, he wasn’t. His mind was cloudy and tired, but he knew it was only a depressive episode. Even so, he allowed the episode to place a stone in his heart and drag him down to the center of the earth.

A pierce of frustration came to his mind. He wanted to be normal; like all of the kids that walk into Mr. Coran's office. He wants to be like the pretty girl who walked in every once in awhile to complain about her overcrowded social life or the boy with shaggy hair who only comes in to Mr. Coran's office when he gets in trouble with his teachers.

His mind starts to drift to the kids at school and how they interact with each other. He thinks of them like robots; programmed with artificial emotions and permanent smiles. They’ll never understand.  
Memories of elementary school and middle school came to mind as he is reminded of the times he realized that he didn’t exactly fit in. He tried to recall it from the start but his heavy eyelids refused.  
He sat there for awhile, sinking deep into the bath with the heaviest weight on his shoulders.

Keith likes baths. It reminds him of the ocean and when he used to go by the water when he was younger and innocent. They live in Florida with a beaches at every side but he doesn't go outside as much anymore. He began to think of these memories and the waves washed over him.

He was floating with not even a flame in his heart. The salty water carried him off safely through the never ending tide. He felt refreshed and brand new. He was only eight. In the distance, he hears a voice calling his name. Peeping his head up, he looks down to the shore. "Keith!"

Three boys with faces of youth smiled and waved to him. He dove under, swimming towards them with great desire of speaking to them once more and changing the past, but once he reached the shore they were no longer there. Instead, Keith was left in cold water with nothing but a wall of skin blocking from the fire within his heart.

Slowly, Keith pulled himself up from the bath and covered his torso with a towel. He ran a hand through his hair, and opened the door, a new idea is awaiting him. He threw on his school uniform that he was wearing previous to bathing. He then scavenged his room for exactly what he was looking for. Finding it was impossible under all of the dirty clothes and trash that he had yet to clean up, but eventually the notebook was in reach. It was red and covered with little sharpie doodles he did in his happier days. Keith rushed down the stairs and into the living room. His father was nowhere to be seen, but that was usual for most nights. Grabbing a granola bar from the cabinet, he heads out the door and into his car. He tossed everything into his passenger seat and rammed his keys into the slot.

Technically, he shouldn't be driving, especially this late at night, but he had no concern anymore, he had a destination to get to. Backing out, he started speeding down the street. He passed other cars and neighbors who were surprised to even see Keith's car driving to somewhere that isn't school, especially at this time. Once reaching a stop light, he turned on the car radio. Connecting his phone, he blared Don’t Threaten Me With A Good Time, screaming the lyrics to himself and driving towards the sunset. Once reaching the streets of Florida, he started to get cars honking at him, but that only made him to turn up the music.

Eventually, he pulled into an empty parking lot alongside the beach. He ejects his keys, turning off the car. The sight of the beach brought delight to his eyes. It was nothing he had seen before. The little bit of sun left casted against the large palm trees framing the shore and creating giant shadows. The skyline was almost black which wasn’t standard tanning time, so the beach was vacant. Opening the door, he threw off his shoes and ran towards the sand. His childish ways return instantly as he started to kick the sand in the air and collapsed into it. Waving his arms around, he started creating 'sand angels', just out of the trill of feeling sand against his skin. He stopped once something caught his eye. Looking up at the sky, he noticed the stars staring back at him. They shined out for him and watch his every move. Keith held up his hand, trying to catch one of the stars, but comes to the fact that it was impossible. His mind quickly gets distracted by the sound of the waves. Turning onto his stomach, he watched as the waves wash back and both, reaching towards him and then losing its grip.

He laid there, taking in the moment by closing his eyes and breathing in deeply, with hope to open his eyes and be eight years old again with his friends on the shore. Opening his eyes again, he is left with nothing but himself.

He then had an idea. Stripping from all of his clothes and dropping them into the sand, he ran to the water bare-skinned. The salt fizzed at his skin and cleaned him from the sand that was previously imprinted on him. He dunked himself under, soaking his just-washed-hair. When rising back to the surface, the droplets from his hair excited him as he whipped them around allowing the droplets to flutter around in the air before diving back into the water.

Beginning to feel cold from a mixture of the weather and the water, Keith heads back to his clothes on the shore. He pulled on his khaki shorts, only to realize they were going to get damp. With no dismay, he buttoned his shirt, whilst heading back to his car. Once there, he looked at his phone and sees he had a few notifications.

The first one read,  
DAD: Hey, I'm home, where are you?  
DAD: Keith?  
DAD: Where are you?

Follow by,  
MR.CORAN: Keith, I just got a concerned call from your father. Is everything alright?

He turned his phone off, not concerned with whatever risk would come the following day. Looking at the passenger seat, he noticed his red notebook. Grabbing it, he spun the used pages around the spiral and came to a clean page. There, he pulled out a pen he kept in the glove compartment of his car and started to make strokes. Admiring the sight before him, he knew his weak pen would not do it justice, but he made a reminder for himself to watercolor it later.

Hours upon hours passed and his heavy eyes could not carry on any longer, resulting in a quick car nap. Shortly after, Keith awoke with the sun shining and a delicate knock. Glaring up, he sees an officer outside. Keith, in a panic, quickly started his car and pulled down his window.

"Yes, officer?" He muttered, a sweat of worry spreading throughout him.

"You're not allowed to be on the beach until 8 a.m, do you need any help?" he asked, concerned if the boy had been living in his car. Keith looked at the time on the clock, reading 6:50 a.m- he knew he'd be late to school.

"Ah! No, sorry, my bad. Have a nice day." and with that, Keith rolled up his window and with great speed, he turned out of the parking lot. Once coming to a stoplight, Keith looked down at his uniform and noticed how filthy it is. He shrugged it off, knowing the only person he'd see today is Mr. Coran and the other kids who came into his office every once in awhile.

Walking through the office, Keith earned second glances from the other teachers working in there. The boy swiftly turned into Mr. Coran's office to see the counselor on the phone.

"-He's right here." He muttered into the phone and Keith knew exactly who he was speaking to.

"Hi dad! I'm fine!" Keith yelled, loud enough for the phone to pick up.

"I'll talk to him now. You're welcome. Bye." Mr. Coran hung up and gave Keith a stern look, which he returned with a rebellious smile. "Were you at the beach?" He asked, signaling at all the sand on the younger boy's uniform.

"I was. I missed the water. And the sand." The boy moved to sit on the couch, but Mr. Coran stopped him, pulling out a lint roller and handing it to the him.

Mr. Coran turned his chair to face Keith, "and did you sleep?"

"Just a little, I wasn't really tired. Have you ever been to the beach at night? I haven't gone in awhile except last night but-"

"Keith, you're having another episode."

"Huh?"

"Did you have any hallucinations last night?" Mr. Coran asked with a look of concern on his face.

"No, I didn't. I just wanted to go swimming." Keith started to fidget with his fingers, not wanting to believe that his beautiful night was caused by hypomania.

Mr. Coran sensed this and retrieved the stuffed hippo that Keith liked, "I'm sorry, Keith." He held out the animal to the boy. Mr. Coran's phone then started to ring, earning his full attention as he answered it.  
Keith looked at his reflection through the enlarged, plastic eyes of the hippo. Tears started to flow and muffled sobs began to break out, so he covered his mouth with the stuffed hippo, careful not to interrupt Mr. Coran's call.


	7. Chapter 7.

"This i-i-is" Lance paused, taking a deep breath, "Molly. She is f-f-f-f-five y-years old. Sh-sh-she likes to play with her doll-y-y."

"Good, Lance, good." Ms. Shay, looked at him with a bright smile of encouragement. Although she really tried her best to be congratulatory, Lance knew he could've done better. "Now, try the next page."

Lance swallowed deeply, "Molly has m-many friends. She likes to p-p-p-play at their h-h-h-houses or at her h-house."

"That's better, Lance!"

Lance has been seeing a speech therapist for his entire life. It all started when he was around three and had yet to say his first word, so his parents began to pay for classes, desperate to hear his voice at least once. Although the classes did get him to talk after a period of time, it has yet to cure his irritable stuttering. However, it has helped his confidence a bit; Ms. Shay always encourages him to keep going and to talk when he wants to because he cannot change the way he is no matter how badly he wants to. Lance likes Ms. Shay's wise words a lot. He likes to think there's a little sun inside of her that illuminates kindness; despite her being a tiny pretty, little blonde lady. The school system attempted to get Lance another speech teacher so that he could receive help during the school day rather than after school, but Lance refused shortly after seeing that the speech therapist they hired refused to go at a pace that was okay with him.

Lance flipped the page and is faced with a much longer paragraph then the previous two. "Now, this is a lengthy one, but don't be intimidated by it. Remember to focus on each word and take breaks if you need to."  
Lance nodded in agreement and began to read, "Molly is good at s-s-school work, taking ca-care of her th-th-things, sh-sh-sh-" Lance let out a frustrated sigh and looks up to Ms. Shay, "T-this is w-w-worse than the w-w-warm up." He chuckled and tried to catch his breath. Speaking his mind is easier for him than reading. When talking, his mind knows what he wants to say next, but with reading, he must read each word at a pace that makes it into a sentence that shows what someone else was trying to say. This was difficult for him.

"You're doing great, keep trying!"

Lance put his head down on the desk, "Can I h-h-have a little br-break?"

"How about I read to you a little story I found this weekend?" Ms. Shay asked, pulling out a small book from her desk. Lance put his head up and she earned his full attention, "There once was a little boy who stuttered. Nobody understood him, though he kept on trying. He had no friends and was lonely. He would be under the table and he would make up games in his head and play all day. Everyone thought he was weird, but the little boy knew he wasn't. He tried to be happy, but secretly he was unhappy. Then one day, someone dropped a flyer and forgot about it. The little boy under the table picked it up and started playing with it. He saw a picture of a dancer. He could not stop thinking about it. He took it home and asked his mother what it was. She told him it looked like a girl's dance class-" Suddenly there was a knock on the door and Lance looked towards the clock, finally realizing they were fifteen minutes late.

"M-ms. Shay! W-w-we are o-overtime!" He said, as the knocker walked in.

It was Gabriella, who politely waved to Ms. Shay, "Sorry to cut you guys off, but I've got dinner in the oven."

"That's alright!" Ms. Shay closed the book in her hands as Lance started to slide his belongings into his backpack. "I guess you'll just have to figure out the ending of the story by yourself, Lance." He looked up and she gave him a cheeky wink, receiving a giggle from both. "Oh! And have fun at your little party!"

Lance bid her a 'thank you' and a 'goodbye' before heading into his mom's car.

The sky was angry tonight; crying and shooting bitter bolts to the world below. The atmosphere was pitch black, aside from the occasional spurts of electricity lighting up the night like a homemade light bulb. Gabriella covered herself from the rain by holding the back of her jacket over her head and dashing towards her little SUV. Lance, however, enjoyed this weather. He liked the way the rain felt against his skin and the excitement of the booming. He walked slowly towards the passenger seat, taking enough time to get his hair all wet. His pace quickened when he heard Gabriella yell a quick "Rápido" from a crack in the window.

"How was school today, hijo?" She asked whilst backing up.

Lance sighed, "It was normal, just li-li-like any other day."

"Are you excited for the party tonight?" She reminded him.

"I'm alright." He gave her a slanted smile. The truth was he was beyond nervous. He can't remember the last time he hung out with anyone outside of school besides his family. Even thinking about it made his knees shake.

"Do you need me to cook anything? You know I'm not letting you go into that house empty handed. I can whip up something real quick for you." He knew it was the polite thing to do, but he really didn't know what to bring.

"I-I-I don't know. I don't t-t-think you could make an-anything in th-th-thirty minutes."

"Geez, c'mon, get your stuff together, hijo!" She playfully flicked his head, Lance laughed and flicked her arm back. This led to her tugging back and forth on his ear, pushing his head left and right.

"Alright, al-alright! Y-Y-You win!" He squeaked as her grip loosened. Suddenly, they're interrupted by the ringing of Gabriella's phone.

"Pick that up, Príncipe." She pointed to her little red purse under Lance's feet.

Lance reached into her purse and pulled out her cell phone, reading the contact, "I-It's dad." He told her, sliding accept and putting his ear to his phone, "H-hello?"

"Lance? Tacito heard the thunder outside and he's throwing a little tantrum. I just wanted to warn you and mom before you came home, okay?" Lance felt a rush of fright. Mateo, Lance's dad, isn't home a lot of the time, since he is usually out of state for business meetings and such, so he doesn't really know how to handle Tacito's little tantrums.

"A-A-Alright," Lance nodded, trying to think of anything that would help little Tacito since the storm didn't look to be clearing up anytime soon, "G-G-Give him M-Moo," he said, referring to Tacito's little blue stuffed moose, "Also, give h-him the n-n-noise cancel-"

"Yes, the noise canceling headphones under his bed, yes, I've got them. Just hurry home soon, okay? And be safe." It was very clear to Lance that his dad was in a panic himself and didn't think he was reliable enough to be left alone with the Tacito during his little temper.

"Yes, s-s-sir." Lance answered into the phone before hanging up and explaining the situation to his mom.

"Pft, he's such a baby," She murmured under her breath, "Tacito will be alright."

Lance nodded in agreement. Eventually, their car pulls into the driveway of their little yellow duplex. Even from inside of the car, they could hear the murderous screams of the little boy.  
"Good thing the neighbors aren't home." Gabriella said, shutting her car door and speed walking to the front door. Once walking in, she is greeted her husband with the screaming child huddled on his lap, head pressed against the older man's chest. Tacito had his giant, blue noise cancelling headphones on. Lance knew that even though the little boy couldn't hear the noise now, it still echoed in his head from when he previously heard it. Sitting beside him was his twin sister, hands pressed hard against her ears protecting them in case her brother decided to yell again whilst she was watching TV.

"L-let me a-a-at him." Lance swung his way around Gabriella, waving his arms to Tacito, picking him up and lifting him high in the air. "What's go-going on with you, li-li-little man?" Tacito stared back at the older boy with tear stained eyes, but quickly looked away. Lance knew that Tacito wasn’t a big fan of eye contact. "Y-Y-You don't like the noise, d-do you?" Tacito continued to look away, unaware of what the older boy is saying due to the enlarged headphones over his ears. "I've got you, little m-m-man." Lance held the child close to his chest, looking to his parents for approval before sweeping his way up the stairs.

Lance walked into the younger boy's room. Everything in little Tacito's room was blue; he had a liking for that color and only that color. Lance sat down on the small blue bed, holding the boy closer, feeling his shirt get damp from Tacito's tears and snot; He didn't mind though, he only cared if the boy was safe. Looking to the younger boy's pillow, Lance sees his favorite blue moose that he refers to as "Moo". The toy was given to Tacito by his older brother on his second birthday and he has refused to part with it since.

Reaching his free arm out, Lance picked up the blue moose and sits it on his open knee. He then tapped the younger boy's arm with the moose's paw, causing Tacito to turn his head towards the moose. "Moo!" he called out, tears still flowing from his eyes. His small arms reached out to the toy, crawling out of Lance's grasp to get to him. Instead, the boy decided to sit next to Lance, holding the blue moose to his chest, cuddling it tightly. Lance did not want to remove the boy's headphones just yet, not trusting of the storm that still boomed throughout the house. So, the two boys sat there while Tacito started to hum small tunes he made up in his head and swinging Moo around in the air.

Tacito's little tantrums happen at least once a week, so it is something Lance has learnt to deal with on his own. Now that the boy seems relatively calm, he would bring out his phone and play a fish video for him, but once Lance pulled his phone out of his pocket, his eyes went wide at the time.

"Oh no." He whispered, looking down at his brother next to him, cheeks still puffy from crying. Lance felt under the pressure of time. The party started at 7:30, but it was already thirty minutes beyond that. He has never had plans before that would overpower making sure Tacito is okay. Suddenly, an idea comes to mind, so the boy rushes to his own room, grabbing his laptop and logging in as fast as possible. He then carries the computer to his brother's bed, searching for the longest fish video he could find. He came across a ten hour one and presses play, placing it in front of the boy. This captured the boy's attention immediately, enough so that Lance was able to sneak away.  
Tripping over his feet whilst running down the stairs, Lance sees his parents sitting on the couch together.

"I'm late, w-w-we have to go." Lance said to the pair on the couch. He received a laugh from them and he turned his head in confusion.

"Lance, dear, you should probably change." Lance's eyes looked down on his body, realizing he was still in his school uniform, which really isn't party attire. Also, there was a giant puddle resting on his button up from Tacito's tears and snot.

"I can drive him," His dad said, standing up from the couch, "Go get ready, quickly." And with that, Lance dashed upstairs to his dresser. He really had no idea what to wear since he has never been to a party before. He pulled out several options, looking at them, and then throwing them to the ground in disapproval. At the bottom of his draw, he is met with a red, white, and blue striped tee. He ripped off his button up, quickly pulling on the tee and a pair of jeans. He looked at himself in the mirror, noticing how his hair is still damp from standing out in the rain, but doesn't bother fixing it due to his lack of time.

Lance ran down the stairs once again, pulling his shoes on. "By-bye mom! Ta-take care of Tacito!" And with that, he was gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi y'all!  
> I have been heavily editing this story all weekend in attempt to make my writing stronger, more accurate, and more detailed. This resulted in me adding a little bit more to the story (there is a little part I added at the end of chapter one and it is referenced once again in chapter two), of course, it is not necessary to read but I think it adds a little bit of more character to the story and the connection between Lance and Keith.  
> Also, I have been reading all the comments you leave and any advice you give is really helpful! I, of course, am not a professional on disorders and only understand so little about the struggles everyone has to face, but the little advice you guys give does help me understand a little more!  
> With that, thank you for reading my story and I hope you enjoy the rest! :)
> 
> -C


	8. Chapter 8.

Four people sat at the dining table. Only four people. Keith looked around, watching as the teens made conversation that he wanted to get involved in, but his mind refused to rest with one empty chair. It was easy to recognize who wasn't there due to the few people invited. It was beyond rude, Keith thought, especially since he said he could go. Out of everyone, he never thought it would be Lance.

Keith abruptly rose up from his chair, "Is nobody else bothered by this?" he interrupted all conversations happening between the three other teens who were previously bonding.

"By what? Lance? He said he would show up so..." Katie tried to be as understanding as possible, wanting to trust that Lance wouldn't ditch them.

Keith huffs, "It's been forty five minutes. I have a feeling he's just not going to show." He fell back in his chair with a thump, leaving the room as quiet as it was when they first met in the support group.

Minutes later, the room remained the same even after Keith had complained. Conversations continued with the kids but on the other side of the table Keith maintained a sulky expression with folded arms. He finally stood once again, "How's this, I'm going to go find him. Stay here." He threw the napkin off his lap and onto the table, pushing the chair out from behind him and heading to the door. The others wanted to say or do something to stop him, but they had a feeling it wouldn’t get to him.

Anger burned within Keith, placing firewood into roaring embers inside him. It was unacceptable to show up to something you rsvp-ed to, he thought. Keith slipped his vans on and threw his jean jacket over his shoulder, too in a rush to actually slip it on. His hand reached the door handle, turning it and opening it in a swift swing- only to be met with surprised eyes.

In the doorway stood the missing boy, drenched in rainwater from the undying storm outside. In his hand was a bouquet of white roses and sunflowers. He held them towards his nose, close enough to capture the smell, but far enough to present them. Keith’s eyes wondered at the sight, admiring the light colors of the flowers against his very tan skin. They wandered down to his hands and how they wrapped around the flowers, careful not to crush a single element of them, not even the stem. He looked like the most delicate thing ever created. It made Keith mad. He wanted to yell at the boy and slam the door in his face, but he couldn't after seeing such a sight. Lance looked at Keith with a tilted head, curious why he was leaving early. They stood there for awhile without saying a word until Keith couldn't stand it any longer. He grabbed the boy by the center of his stripped tee shirt and pulled him inside.

"You're late." He mumbled, shutting the door behind them both, censoring out the whisper of the storm from outside and making the house completely silent. Lance hesitantly stepped in, puzzled as to where everyone was. A part of his mind was curious if he was even at the correct place. He watched as Keith turned a corner and disappeared into a connected room.

"K-Keith?" He called out, following shortly behind him.

The previous conversation at the dining table was silenced with bewilderment as Keith walked in with Lance, "That was quick." Katie laughed, standing from her chair to greet Lance, "Hey, Lance, how're you?" She held her arms open for a hug. When standing out in the open, her visit to the hospital was very visible. Her tiny arms were wrapped in tight, thick bandages that looked impossible to cut.

Lance welcomed the hug, walking into her open arms and carefully wrapping his arms around her, "I'm so-sorry I'm late," he apologizes, "I had a li-li-little one to d-deal with. Oh, a-a-a-a-and my mom wanted m-m-me to bring you these." He tried clearing his throat to make his stuttering a little better but he knew it would only do little.

Katie released herself from the hug, looking at the flowers with gratitude, “They’re so beautiful, thank you, Lance. We are glad you're here now,” Shiro swung in, taking the bouquet from Lance’s hands. He didn’t want Katie to hurt herself on the thorns and he knew that it would be impossible to hold in the bandages anyways, “There's a seat for you between Keith and Shiro." She said, signalling to the empty chair.

Lance was shocked to see everyone here, he really expected for nobody to show up. It was nice to see everyone making an effort for this support group. He glanced around the room at each member. They were not wearing their uniforms and it surprised Lance to see them in anything besides that. He enjoyed it though, it made them seem less like student robots and more like him. Also, their outfits showed more about their personalities. Keith wore a black hoodie and black jeans with a fur lined jean jacket around his chair, Lance silently chuckled to himself, thinking that Keith looked like a member from one of the rock bands he didn't listen to. Katie wore a long grey t-shirt with some type of anime characters on it but Lance didn't recognize the show but he took note to ask her later. Shiro wore a black and white striped turtleneck sweater which caused Lance to shutter in envy- of course Shiro could look good in a turtleneck. And lastly, Hunk wore a yellow t-shirt with a pocket that had sunflowers printed onto it.  
All these outfits were sat at the long, wooden dining room table. On the table rested burgundy place mats and empty plates that were waiting to be served.

At this point, Keith had already returned to his seat and started to dig his hand into the chip bowl. A voice murmured in the back of his mind, praying for his hypomania to stay behind him. After shoving a handful of chips in his mouth, Keith reached for the rubber band around his wrist, pulling it back as a result for his mind getting dark. He cannot let himself get out of hand.

Mr. Coran hung up the phone, turning to the boy who was dripping snot and tears onto his stuffed hippo. He took the tissue box from the table in front of them and slid them across as an offering to Keith.

"I'm sorry..." Keith said, peeling a tissue from the container, "I just wanted to have a nice day... I never thought it was-"

"Maybe this is good for you?" Mr. Coran suggested, acquiring a glance from Keith.

The schoolboy pointed to his snotty face, "How could this possibly be good?"

Mr. Coran chuckled, "Well for one, you're showing an emotion other than anger. And you're talking more. Plus you admitted that you had a good day, it's been awhile since I've heard you say that."

Keith suddenly goes wide-eyed with a memory, "Shit. Mr. Coran, the party is tomorrow."

Mr. Coran covered his mouth with his hand in shock, "Wow. Perfect timing!" He said sarcastically, falling into the back of his chair with ultimate defeat.

Keith sunk into the back of the couch, clutching the stuffed hippo to his chest, "This is terrible. Should I cancel?"

"No," He looked at the boy, "This might be a good thing. You'll at least appear happier and more social with the group but..." he hesitated, "don't get any crazy ideas like the beach stunt you just pulled."

Keith rolled his eyes, "It's not like its something I can control, I would if I could."

"Here," the councilor spun his chair around and opened his drawer, pulling out a rubber elastic, "wear this and fling it whenever you have an urgency to do something stupid." He held out the band to the boy.

Keith paused, looking at the councilor with bewilderment, "You realize I could get you arrested for telling me to hurt myself?"

"But you won't." Mr. Coran winked, flinging the rubber band at the boy, then quickly spinning to do work on his computer.

Keith glared at the elastic, watching how his wrist went red with every pull. He was too in a daze to even realize that the teens were talking to him.

"Keith, are you alright?" Shiro asked, standing up slightly, ready to strike in case of an emergency.

Keith examined the table and looked up, "Ah!" he gasped, "I just kinda," he looked to his left to see Lance's eyes, shielded with worry and fear, "dazed out." he said, turning away and looking at his elastic with red cheeks that matched his wrist.

"Well then, how about you, Keith?" Shiro asked and Keith looked up again, his throat humming a noise of questioning, Shiro laughed, "Man, you dazed out for a while, didn't you? Are you really okay?" 

"Yes!" Keith laughed, shoving his hand into the chip bowl as a comfortable and 'okay' gesture, "What were you talking about?"

"We were asking you if you wanted to play Mario Kart after dinner." Hunk chimed in.

"Ah, yeah, sure." Keith smiled, and with that, the conversation continued onward.

Keith felt his chair quickly fall beneath the table as the rest of the teens stayed there, having their conversations like nothing happened. They faded as he continued to fall, his sight getting darker and body becoming colder. He was now free falling in the abyss. His hand reached out in attempt to grab something, anything that could pull him up. He felt like Alice in Wonderland, falling into the hole, but this time there was no end with potions and tiny doors, only a lonely black hole. However, when he looked up again, a hand was reaching out to him, watching him as he fell and trying to reach out to him.

He found himself back in reality when Shiro was placing a bowl of mash potatoes on the table before heading back into the kitchen to retrieve more food. The teens smirked maliciously at each other as Shiro left the room and began to dig in without him. Keith quickly swung the elastic back and paining his skin once more, then joined them by digging in and slipping mash potatoes onto the plate in front of him.

"So, Keith, what classes are you in? I feel like I never see you in the halls." Hunk asked, drawing all attention to Keith.

"I, uh, actually don't go to classes." He says quietly, flustered by the question.

"Huh? You d-d-d-don't go to classes?" Lance stuttered out, confused by Keith's response.

"No, I spend the entire day with Mr. Coran." He says to him, surprised that anyone's even interested.

Katie joined in, "I wish I didn't have to go to classes." This was followed by a 'me too' from both Hunk and Lance. Shiro walked in, placing a bowl of corn onto the table. Katie gave him a quick ‘thank you’ for taking care of the dishes for her since she could hardly move her arms due to the bandages.

Keith, however, paid no attention to what was happening around him. Following Katie’s comment, Keith felt extremely defensive, “It’s not like I don’t want to go. You should be happy you can manage to sit in a classroom.” He dug his spoon into his mash potatoes, hastily shoving them into his mouth.

Katie laughed, not understanding the boy’s frustration, “Ha! Hardly! I can’t walk anywhere without being paranoid or socially anxious.” 

“It’s not the same thing. You can still go to classes. I can’t.” He argued, no longer paying attention to his mash potatoes and with wide eyes on Katie.

She notices Keith’s anger before he does, “Well, I’m sorry, it must be really hard for you.” Hunk and Lance both exchange glances of confusion, too anxious from the table tension to continue eating. 

Before the argument could continue, Shiro walked in holding a pre-cut turkey and instantly sensed the tension, “What was this event called again?” He asked in a nonchalant manner, returning to his seat, “Friendsgiving?” his eyebrow raised to Keith and Katie, whose expressions softened. 

Keith looked up at the group and realizes that all eyes are on him once again. Their faces showed signs of concern for the boy. Despite being the same age as the rest of the teens, besides Shiro, he felt like the youngest. He’s always being watched by them. They’ve tried to help him, but he has done nothing but give them hell. He was at the end of the table, in the smallest chair, so far from the world around him, but instead of taking action, he sank lower into the seat enough for his body to reach the ground. So he did what Mr. Coran had told him to do in a situation where his anger got too heavy.

Without another word, Keith stood from the table. His head held low and his expression hidden. His hands placed the folded napkin that was previously on his lap, onto the table. His body tensed up as he mutters a ‘sorry’, and with that, he sprints out the door, leaving behind his jacket and the group lost for words.

His feet refused to stop once he was out, running as fast as he could down the street of Katie’s unfamiliar neighborhood and feeling his shirt becoming damp from the rain. He shouted and bawled loud enough for his voice to be heard from the next town over. He wanted to scream until the world returned back to the way he remembered it. He had let everything go. He didn’t care that his feet would hurt the next day, he didn’t care about his wet clothes, he didn’t care if anyone heard him, he didn’t care if a car was coming up in front or behind him; he couldn’t stop running. He was in his own world.

A mile down and on an entirely new street, Keith’s legs gave in and came to a sudden hult without consulting his brain. He tumbled down, scraping his knees and elbows onto the pavement. He hissed at the pain but remained calm while the rainwater soaked in the pain. He turned onto his back, allowing the water to shower his face. It melted the little fire inside him. Peace filled his mind as he spread out his limbs and looked up to the sky.

It was dark enough for the stars to be seen but difficult to actually view them over the constant pouring of water and occasional lightning. Under the disguise of the rain, you could see tears flutter off his lashes and trickling onto the ground, following the drops from the sky into the street drains. A smile flashed across his face as the stars sparkled and shined above the filter of sadness he could not escape. They flickered the same as they did in his memory, regardless of the storm below. He looked up at them as if they were looking at him and he wished that he could twinkle just as bright.

Another light shined, calling out “K-Keith!” The boy turned in the direction of the voice to see the light heading towards him. 

There stood Lance with a flashlight in one hand and an umbrella in the other. His posture was stiff and he held the metal rod with two fingers; too frightened of getting electrocuted.

“How’d you find me?” Keith asked calmly, sitting up and resting on his hands.

“I f-f-followed your screaming.” Keith huffed with flushed cheeks. He looked to the stars once more, sighing with defeat, and finally stood.

“Where are the others? They sent you here alone?”

“T-T-They couldn’t.” Keith thought about this. With Hunk’s paranoia, he would most like panic himself before making it to Keith, Katie’s bandages can’t get wet, and Shiro’s PTSD could be triggered in some way- so Lance did seem like the safest candidate.

Walking over to the taller boy, “I can hold this.” he muttered, taking the umbrella from Lance’s soft grip. Lance nodded and stepped closer to protect himself from the storm.

They started to walk back to the party together until Lance interrupted, “Wait!” he stopped and started to untangle himself from the coat he was wearing- it wasn’t until then that Keith realized that Lance was wearing his jacket.

“Is...that mine?” Keith asked with furrowed brows, watching as Lance struggled to take it off.

Lance’s cheeks went red, “Y-yes. I-I’m sorry i-i-it was the quickest thing I could th-throw on-”

“Keep it for now, you have short sleeves on.” Keith said without looking at the boy. Lance stopped, glanced at Keith, and slid his arms back into the fur-lined jean jacket. 

They continued to walk back with lips that spoke no words and ears that listened to nothing but the rainfall. 

Lance cleared his throat, “So… why’d you r-run off?” he broke the wall of silence.

Keith looked down, unsure of how to answer, so he just shrugged. Lance figured he didn’t want to talk, which was far from the truth, but even so, he stayed quiet.

“Honestly,” Keith started, “I don’t know how to explain it. I want to give you guys a chance but… my disorder won’t let me.” 

Lance was unsure if he should continue the conversation, “Why's that? I-If you d-d-don’t mind me a-asking.”

Keith scuffed bitterly, “Just because.” Lance swore he heard lightning strike after he spoke, so he decided to let the conversation drop. 

They continued to walk together without saying a word. Looking to his left, Lance admired the houses in the neighborhood. They walked in front of a tall white house. It looked three stories high and had a balcony at each floor. The bushes lining the house were perfectly trimmed and an American flag floated in the wind on their front lawn. Lance tried to image the family that lived in there. He likes to believe it's a big family, like his own, living off of old money so that the parents don’t have to work and are able to spend all their time together. 

“Exactly like that.” Keith interferes, “I’m sorry.” He whispers softly, but Lance could still hear him. 

Lance glanced up at him, seeing strive within, “I-It’s okay, Keith. Y-You don’t have t-t-to be our friends, but we will always w-w-welcome and w-watch out for y-you no matter what you choose. I-I-I just wish I knew how to h-help you. I only w-w-want you to g-get better.” 

This touched Keith’s heart in a way he hasn’t felt in awhile. Nobody has ever tried to understand how he was feeling or what he needed- well, besides Mr. Coran, but Mr. Coran only listened because it’s his job. Keith felt regret for his previous assumption of the human’s lack of empathy in this boy. Even through his own stuttering disorder, he told Keith that he only wanted Keith’s disorder to heal. Looking back on it now, Lance was different from the start. 

“Wow.” Keith felt permanently speechless, exasperated by Lance’s heart and kindness.

“I’m sorry… d-did I say something wrong?” 

Keith smiled, “No, that was just... really nice.” the taller boy chuckled, eyeing Keith’s smile like it was the last time he’d ever see it.

“E-Everyone has a story.” They make eye contact and Keith finally noticed the bright gleam of hope in Lance’s eyes.

“What’s yours then?”

“Mine i-isn’t very interesting. I’m the e-e-eldest of three, I have a mom and a dad- oh! And I-I can’t speak!” he giggles without a trace of insecurity, covering his face with mouth with his hand, “M-My story isn’t i-i-interesting, but it is a st-story.”

“How are you so happy?” Lance peered at him with a hurt expression, thinking that Keith thought he didn’t deserve to be happy, but he realized he would have phrased it better, “Ah, no, I meant like, how’re you so, so-”

Lance finally stepped in, “Content? I-I haven’t always been, I g-guess it’s because I have the others n-n-now. I d-don’t feel alone.” Keith hummed at this, uncertain of what to say next. 

Lance didn’t mind the silence and understood if Keith didn’t want to tell him anything but he unexpectedly heard a sigh from the smaller boy, “So you were born like that?”

“Y-yeah.” Dead air was between the two, not knowing how to continue the conversation. So they wandered through the silence, side by side in the darkness with nothing but the stars and the flashlight in Lance’s hand to guide them. 

Finally, they reached Katie’s little brown house on the corner. Lance compared it to the house on the corner; it was much smaller and only one story high, with no bushes or American flag. It looked very lived in. Pieces of paneling hung off the front wall and the only plant there was the dead tree in the front lawn. 

Keith examined inside the windows, but could not see. The previously lit windows were now dimmed, “What happened to the lights?”

Lance looked around at the neighboring houses and became aware that no houses had lights on, “Power outage?” Keith nodded in response and proceeded to open the door.

“Lance? Keith?” a voice called out in the darkness of the house. Lance held the flashlight in front of the two and headed towards the dining room where they previously sat. However, the once filled table was now empty.

Keith mumbled a curse under his breath and yelled, “Where are you guys?” 

“Living room!” a voice shouted into the blackout. Lance turned in confusion, unsure of where the living room was, so Keith, evidently annoyed, took the flashlight from the taller boy’s hand and pulled his arm through the darkness with him. They eventually reached the living room. Candles and flashlights were scattered throughout the room. On the couch were the other three members, all huddled in a blanket, desperate for warmth since the heater was no longer working. 

“Did the power go out?” Keith asked, looked at blanket blob they created.

“Yeah, I’m pretty sure the whole town is down at this point.” Katie answered, “I’m sorry, guys. I really didn’t think this was going to happen.” She sat in the middle with Hunk and Shiro to her sides. Shiro and Katie seemed secure and peaceful, but Hunk looked absolutely petrified. His spine was stiff and his eyes and ears were wide, trying to take in all of his surroundings. It was a face that was familiar to Lance.

“It’s okay, we had fun while it lasted- and there’s nothing stopped our fun now.” Shiro smiled, cheering Katie up instantly.

“Tacito,” Lance muttered in shock to himself, “He probably t-terrified.” Lance removed his phone from Keith’s coat pocket.

“Who?” Shiro asked when seeing the worry in Lance’s expression.

“My little b-brother, he gets s-s-scared in things like this.” He tries to call his mom, but without wifi, the call refuses to go through, “T-there’s no wifi.” Lance said, more anxious than before.

Keith joined in, “I’m sorry if this cuts the party short, but I have my car outside and I can drive you home if you want.” Lance nodded and turned to Katie for confirmation. 

“His safety is more important.” She agreed.

“Can I get a ride home too? I live down the street but I don’t-” He goes quiet, but Keith understood that he was uncomfortable and agreed.

“Shiro?” Keith asked, curious if he wanted a ride too.

He shook his head, “That’s okay, I have my car and I think I’ll stay for a bit longer, thank you though.” 

“Are you sure this is safe for you to drive in?” 

“Positive, I’ll get them home safe.”

With that, they said their ‘goodbyes’ and ‘thank you’s’ before loading into Keith’s cheap black Nissan Altima. Once starting up the car, the radio blares his music. He quickly turns it down with flustered cheeks. “So, who’s first?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i am so sorry this took so long to update but its super long so i hope that makes up for it !!


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